Can You See Me Dancing?
by PhantomAntiquities
Summary: A kind act leads to a trip to Kooza, but what are the Tricksters intentions?    Rating may increase, depends on where I go with this.
1. Chapter 1

Hi all,

here is my first attempt at a Cirque fanfic, I hope you enjoy. Please R&R and I'll be happy to answer any questions you have.

Happy Reading!

I do not own the rights to Cirque du Solei's characters or creations.

Rowan smiled as she inhaled the sharp scent of freshly cut grass. It was the weather that had prompted her to walk to work instead of jumping in her car. The evening was warm and still, the sun low in the cloudless sky. She had left early so that she could cut through the park down by the river. It wasn't the most direct route to the station, but she enjoyed the atmosphere and the gently swaying trees and burbling stream would serve as a distraction for a while. Rowan liked distractions, so much so that she actively sought them when she wasn't at work. Thinking wasn't good for her, reminiscing held no place...thinking, remembering, dwelling...that was where the damage began. Her blue eyes creasing into a frown for a moment, she hitched her back pack further onto her shoulder. Tonight would be the second of her night shifts this week, fifteen hours of paperwork, tension and at some point hopefully...sleep. She doubted that somehow...she never slept on a night shift. Her colleagues had told her that sleep would come with time and experience and eventually the nightmares would lessen too, but not leave completely. After all she had only been in the Fire Service for six months. She smiled again, her hand unconsciously brushing over the insignia on her uniform as her heart swelled with pride. She genuinely loved her job, the fast pace, meeting people, helping people and ,she supposed, the danger, the allure of living on the edge. However she had to admit that for all the highs, there were lows too. That was the part she struggled with, the part that literally drove her to distraction and haunted her dreams at night.

She turned off the path heading for the open space at the center of the park ringed by trees. It was by one of these trees that she spotted a disheveled looking boy of about eleven or twelve years old. He was looking up into one of the trees, wringing his hands and shifting his weight from foot to foot seemingly in worry and frustration. Rowan made her way over being careful not to scare the boy.

"Hello there, are you ok?"

The boy jumped in fright, spinning to face her and tripping over his own feet, his hat slipping down over his eyes as he landed in the grass with a soft thud. Rowan stooped to help him up but he shied away from her, pushing his hat off of his eyes. It was then that she noticed the boy's clothes for the first time. He was dressed in what looked like a one piece jumpsuit but the fit on him was awful. The sleeves were too long, the pants too short. The black, white and gray horizontal stripes showed the age of the material that was worn and frayed around the edges and the night cap like hat, kept slipping down over his eyes. Rowan took a step back, then held out her hand, a reassuring smile on her face.

"My name is Rowan. Can I help you up? I don't bite...promise"

The boy looked from her face, to her hand and back again before gingerly taking it, allowing Rowan to help him stand.

"Are you ok?" she asked again.

He shook his head and then looked up into the tree meaningfully. Rowan followed his gaze. There was a kite lodged in the branches above her.

"Ah I see...would you like me to get it for you?"

The boy nodded so emphatically that his hat fell off. Rowan laughed lightly, taking her bag from her back. She dropped it at the boy's feet before taking a few steps back. She sprang forward, bracing one foot against the tree and pushing upwards, managing to grab the lowest branch. She hung there for a moment than pulled her self up with a grunt. She threaded her way through the branches, grasped the kite and tugged it free. She made her way back down being careful not to tear the kite, or her uniform for that matter, and dropped to the ground with only the slightest of wobbles. Righting herself she held the kite out to the boy, who took it from her and hugged it fiercely to him, grinning up at her. Then suddenly he stiffened, looking around as if someone had called for him as Rowan bent to pick up her bag.

"You know kiddo, you really need a windier day to fly a kite...you did well to get it so high. Whats your name...by...the...way?" she trailed off. The boy had gone, vanished completely from view.

"You're welcome" she murmured to her self then looked to her watch. She was running late. She cursed and set off at a run across the grass.

Rowan swiped her pass key over the panel by the door to the station. The mechanism buzzed and she barged in almost running into another fire fighter coming the other way. She spun away from him, bouncing off the wall as he back peddled out of her way, paperwork floating down around them.

"Rowan? What are you doing?"

Rowan grimaced and immediately started scooping up the fallen papers,

"I am so sorry Sir, I thought I was running late and -"

The man, broad shouldered with closely shaven steel gray hair put a hand out to stop her,

"How many times do I have to tell you, call me John...I've never liked being called sir...makes me feel old and you're not that late, the day shift is just finishing up" he peered at her closely for a moment,

"You have a twig in your hair"

Rowan's hand flew to her spiky deep red hair. Her fingers found the offending piece of shrubbery and pulled it free. She grinned sheepishly at her boss.

"Part of the reason I'm late, I stopped to get a kid's kite out of a tree"

John smiled before accepting the papers from her,

"That was kind of you, now go and drop your gear, shift change in five"

Rowan snapped to attention and saluted, grinning widely,

"Yes Sir!"

The senior officer, rolled his eyes but smiled as the youngest and newest member of Blue Watch bounced down the corridor at a slightly more sedate pace.

Rowan sighed as she looked at the clock. 11.56...perfect. The rest of the watch had gone up to the dorm half an hour ago, leaving her to her own devices. She stood up, stretched and headed into the appliance house with the intention of cleaning some of the hydraulic cutting equipment on the back of the pumps. November Papa One and Kilo Whiskey Three gleamed in the artificial strip lighting. Kilo Whiskey Three was her pump and she patted the engine fondly. Moving around to the lockers she slid up the panel and began checking the equipment. She had barely started when the sounders went, the red light above her flashing as the garage doors slid upwards. She slammed the locker shut, kicked off her shoes and was kitted up and on the pump when the rest of the crew arrived.

"Derelict building fire, no persons reported at this time" John said as he climbed into the front seat,

"head for the old fair ground Boxer"

The driver nodded and gunned the appliance out on to the deserted road. It was exactly midnight.

They saw the smoke before they arrived, dark gray and menacing against the clear night sky. Pulling around the corner Boxer swore,

"Building fire my arse, its the sodding tent!"

The bedraggled big top stood in front of them. It had sat empty for years, cut off from the rest of the site by a large chain link fence and padlocked gate. A soft orange light emanated from within the striped walls, making the structure glow eerily. An annoyed security guard stood by the gate, swinging them open to allow the pumps access.

"Right" John bellowed as he jumped down from the cab,

"Boxer call for the aerial platform, the rest of you run out both the reels and get some of the lengths off the back, Fred? Rowan? Look for a hydrant or, yes?" This was to the security guard who had meandered over and tapped him on the shoulder,

"Do you know if its empty?" the man asked,

"We were told it was, why?"

"Well sometimes the homeless use it to sleep in and -" he gave a small shrug and half attempted to cover the nasty smile on his face,

"I saw someone go in, right before you arrived"

Rowan was disgusted, the mans pale blue eyes were dancing with glee. John turned on him,

"You positive mate? Because if I send my team in and you're taking the piss..." he didn't finish the sentence, he didn't need to. The horrible man nodded before fixing his gaze on Rowan,

"Positive" he drawled and grinned.

"Rowan, Mick, sets on"

Rowan threw the BA set on to her back, checking the pressure before securing her face mask, pulling her flash hood up and replacing her helmet. Adjusting her gloves she made her way over to where John and Fred were trying to gain access to the tent. Mick stood next to them, ready to go in, hose reel in hand. John looked up at her,

"Radio?"

She nodded, pointing to the transmitter in her pocket. Fred managed to rip a hole in the lining of the tent, swearing as the friction pulled at his gloves,

"what the hell do they make these things out of?"

John ignored him, looking instead to Rowan,

"Think you can fit through there?"

She nodded, squeezing through the gap. Her back foot caught the lining and she flew forward, pin wheeling her arms for balance. Gravity won however, the extra weight on her back pushing her upper body down and she rolled in to the dark, yelping in pain as the cylinder dug in to her back. She lay in the dark for a moment, expecting to hear a shout from her colleagues and when it didn't arrive she looked at towards the opening. The gap in the tent wall was no longer there. Stranger still there was no sign of fire anywhere in the structure. She managed to sit up, groping for her radio in the darkness. "Rowan to Entry Control"

There was no reply...not even static.

"Rowan to Entry Control!... Come on guys this isn't funny...no messing around at a scene" Giving up on the radio she shouted instead,

"John! Mick!...Boxer?"

Surely they could hear her? Nothing. Not a peep. She found the torch attached to her tunic and pressed the sunken button. Nothing. No radio. No torch. No backup. Absolute darkness surrounded her and although there were no signs of fire she was loath to remove her mask. She had been in house fires where the smoke was as thick as tar obscuring her vision until the flames came into view. Maneuvering onto her hands and knees she began to crawl in the direction that she assumed...hoped the wall was in. Find the wall and you find the way out, that was what her training officer had told her. Find the wall and you find the way out. The hiss of her respirator was uncomfortably loud, the only sound beside the scuff of her hands and knees on the floor. For what seemed like the hundredth time she put her hand out to sweep the floor in front of her, then letting her weight rest on her palm, lifted the other to pull her self forward. Beneath her hand the floor gave way. Unable to stop herself, Rowan tumbled forward, rolling and cartwheeling, crying out as she bounced off of a hard surface and continued to fall before coming to a sudden and bone jarring halt, her right shoulder taking the force of the impact. White hot pain washed over her for an instant before the rest of her senses joined her sight and went dark.

A high pitched, insistent whistle cut through the fog in Rowan's brain. She groaned as the sound continued getting louder as consciousness came back to her. She took a deep breath in and started slightly at the loud hiss. She cracked open one eye. She still had her BA on, the annoying whistle was the PASS alarm on her set. She was lying on her right side and manged to grasp the harness with her left hand, giving the set a sharp tug. Rowan whimpered as pain lanced through her right side but the movement was enough to convince the safety device that she was still alive and the noise ceased. Taking a deep breath she opened her eyes fully surprised to find that a faint light permeated the air around her. Lifting her gaze she saw a pair of blue shoes. Frowning she managed to lift her head, standing just feet away from her and trembling with fear, was the boy with the kite. His clothes were a little different, blue and orange replacing the black and gray but it was him, she was certain of it. Bracing her left hand on the ground she managed to slide her legs beneath her until she was kneeling, hissing in pain as her right arm hung uselessly. She looked up at the boy, who took as step back as if her were about to run. She held out her hand,

"No no no, wait..its OK...I'm not going to hurt you kiddo" her last word stopped him, but he still held the kite defensively in front of him. She vaguely noted that part of the frame was broken.

"Look" she said, slowly removing her left glove. She dropped it on the floor. Her helmet and flash hood soon joined it before she pulled the mask from her face. She smiled reassuringly as the boy looked slightly disgusted for a moment before his eyes flickered with recognition.

"Its me...Rowan. I got your kite back for you...remember?" she sighed with relief as he nodded.

"Can you help me?" Another nod. She motioned him over and he approached her still cautious. She motioned to her BA,

"I need to get this off" he nodded and touched the webbing gingerly, then he looked at her right arm and frowned before pointing up.

"That's right, I fell and hurt my arm. I can't do it on my own"

He seemed to think it through for a moment then put his kite down and gave her a questioning look. She directed him, pointing to the clips that needed undoing and the straps that needed loosening before he took the weight of the cylinder and she slid her arms free, her right shoulder screaming in protest at the movement. Rowan gritted her teeth until the pain ebbed slightly then looked back to the boy.

"Thank you"

He smiled picking his kite back up.

"Do you have a name?" he nodded again but looked at the floor,

"Are you going to tell me what it is?" he didn't move this time. Rowan sighed,

"Not one for talking much are you?" she patted the floor in front of her and he sat down with a non committal shrug, avoiding her gaze.

"Ok then...can you tell me where we are?", he's a child she thought, go with the flow. He looked up at her then, eyes sparkling, a grin appearing on his face before, to Rowans amazement he whispered,

"Kooza"

"Kooza?" more nodding.

"And where is Kooza exactly?", he spread his arms wide motioning to the space around them. Rowan looked around but could see nothing past the circle of light they sat in. She sighed, anger flaring like the pain in her shoulder. She opened her mouth to snap at the boy but calmed herself. Instead she motioned to his kite.

"Can I see?"

He held it up for her to inspect. Part of the frame was snapped. Easily fixable with the electrical insulator tape she always carried in her tunic. She gave him a sympathetic smile,

"Perhaps we can fix this? You can help me"

He grinned and nodded again when suddenly there was a change in the atmosphere. The air smelled sharp and her previously dead radio emitted a burst of static. The boy in front of her, shrank away to her left, eyes wide and he brought the kite up defensively once more. Rowan followed his frightened gaze and found a man standing less that two feet away, towering above her, filling the space with his presence. The boy had moved around behind her. She lifted her chin, defensively.

"And you are?" she asked, trying to keep the tone of her voice level whilst communicating that she was not pleased about being interrupted. Behind her the boy whispered,

"Trickster"


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is the second chapter, I hope you like it! Thank you for the great reviews, I really appreciate it.**

**(I don't own any rights to the characters of creations of Cirque Du Solei)**

"Trickster", the boy whispered.

Rowan turned her head slightly to acknowledge the boy behind her but kept her eyes fixed on the man standing above her. His features were cast in shadow, all but his almost purely white eyes that glowed in the darkness. The shoes in front of her were striped in the same orange, white and blue as the boy wore, the pattern continuing up the trouser legs to an immaculate fitted jacket. The man's fingers were stained with gold that reflected the faint light as he curled them slowly as if he were stroking the air. Rowan bristled as he glared down at her. She worked with eleven men and could easily hold her own with them, she wasn't going to let this one intimidate her. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder she stood, glaring back at the taller man with as much ferocity as he was treating her to. She only came to about his shoulder height but she was close enough to see the elaborate and colorful markings around his colorless eyes. His lips were equally colorful and elegant patterns swirled along his sharp jaw line. If it weren't for the his almost unnatural paleness and the ugly scowl contorting his face he would have been incredibly handsome...stupid hat taken into consideration of course.

"I asked you a question tall, dark and stripy...or do you lack the ability to speak as well?"

The man raised one colorful eye brow a fraction then looked her slowly up and down before giving a snort of dismissal and moving to step around her. Rowan blocked him. He came up short then went to step around her again and once again she stopped him. His eyes hardened and he hissed at her through his teeth. This obviously had the opposite effect to what he expected as he took a step back when Rowan prodded him sharply in the chest,

"Don't you hiss at me buddy" she growled.

Behind her the boy gasped. Rowan reached around pulling the boy to her side, shielding him from the colorful stranger. The boy tugged at her tunic,

"Yes kid?" she said, not taking her eyes from the man.

"Trickster" the child whispered again,

"What?", out of the corner of her eye she saw a trembling finger point to the colorful entity who was now glaring down at the boy.

"Who? Him?", the man glanced at her, giving her a curt nod. Then, not moving from his spot lest he receive another sharp poke, he held out his hand to the boy, snapping his fingers impatiently. The child flinched and Rowan squeezed his shoulder. The Trickster snapped his fingers again, opening his hand in a more emphatic gesture and curling his fingers. Rowan watched as the boy removed a slender silver rod from inside his sleeve and hold it out to the older man who took his time wrapping each finder slowly around the wand before tugging it sharply from the boy's grasp. The Trickster's colorful lips curled into a smirk before he turned away. He glided a few steps before turning sharply his arm coming up to point the wand at Rowan, white teeth appearing in a twisted grin. Suddenly the boy ran forward, positioning him self between Rowan and the colorful man. He shook his head, proffering the kite to the Trickster, then pointing to Rowan before holding the kite up once more. For a moment the Trickster looked blankly down at him before one colorful eyebrow rose, followed by his piercing eyes to gaze at the woman a little way from him. He noted the strange clothing, thick and dirty beige in color that masked her figure, the deep red hair cut short to frame her sharp jaw and strong blue eyes. He also saw how her chin had dropped, her gaze going to the floor and how she favored her right arm, cradling it across her waist as sweat beaded her pale brow, her eyebrows knitted together in a spasm of pain. Twirling his wand in his grip he sashayed forwards.

Rowan felt sick. The pain emanating from her shoulder was sending daggers of pain up her neck to stab between her eyes. It was certainly dislocated, perhaps broken as well. She could feel the sleeve of her shirt becoming tighter as the joint swelled. Her radio started to crackle with static again and looking up she found the Trickster mere inches away as he began to circle her with slow, measured steps. He didn't make a sound as he walked in a way that made putting one foot in front of the other look like an art form. She could feel the static energy radiating off of him as he moved, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. He continued to circle her, his gaze sharp and penetrating. Rowan felt the heat of her temper building. Who was he to eye her like she was a prize animal? But she no longer had the energy to snap at him. If he attacked her now, she would go down fighting but down she would go...and probably stay. He stopped suddenly, directly in front of her. Rowan could see the boy over his shoulder, his face a mask of worry. The penetrating white gaze suddenly turned mischievous, a smirk curling the colorful lips. The Trickster's hand shot out towards her injured shoulder. Rowan flinched, expecting a sharp and forceful impact but instead received the gentle touch of his golden finger tips against her tunic. She relaxed momentarily before the bones of her shoulder snapped back into place with an audible crack. Rowan opened her mouth in silent agony before her knees buckled beneath her, and as her vision began to darken she was only dimly aware of the strong hands that caught her and the mirthless laughter that echoed in the dark.

Somewhere in the back of her mind Rowan felt a sense of de ja vu and consciousness slowly crept back to her once more. But instead of the cold hard floor she felt soft cushions beneath her. Somewhere in the distance she could hear soft childish laughter. She was in her bed at the fire station and one of the lads had left the TV on. That whole episode with the big top, the kid and the jester had just been a weird dream. A small smile crossed her lips but it was soon wiped away as she felt a wave of static energy wash over her. She cracked open one eye and suppressed a groan. The Trickster was pacing back and forward in front of the red velvet chaise-long that she lay on. He had her helmet in his hands, turning it over and over, fingers playing with the straps and visor. As she watched he approached her BA set lying abandoned on the ground and sat down, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees. The fact that he was a good meter and a half above the ground didn't seem to bother him and from her position Rowan couldn't see any wires. He canted his head to one side in thought.

"Its a breathing apparatus", he quickly dropped his feet to the floor and turned to her as she sat up slowly, rolling her shoulder,

"I wear it when I have to go into fires...so I don't breath in the smoke"

Behind the colorful man Rowan saw the boy flying his kite, snippets of laughter drifted over to her. The Trickster had turned his attention back to her BA set, circling it as if it might bite. Rowan stood and approach him kneeling by her set as he watched her,

"Look" she said before pointing to the cylinder, "this has air in it, if flows up this hose to this", she held up her face mask before pulling it over her head and taking a deep breath to activate the respirator. It hissed as she took a few breaths then cut the air flow and removed the mask. The Trickster raised an eye brow as she stood then, with a dismissive twitch of his shoulders, he meandered over to the couch and lay down, legs crossed twirling the wand in his grip. Rowan sighed and unzipped her tunic, letting it fall to the floor. Her shoulder felt much better, there wasn't even any sign of bruising.

"Thank you for that by the way...fixing my shoulder, although a little pre warning would have been nice",his eyes flicked to her and he gave a small, lazy shrug.

"Doesn't mean I like you...but I appreciate it", there was no response this time. He just continued to twirl the damn stick. Rowan made her way over and he continued to ignore her until she swatted his feet. He didn't flinch but the wand froze and he glared at her. Rowan glared back until he moved his feet and she sat down.

"Right, I want some answers Stripy"

The Trickster hadn't sat up, just balanced his ankle on his knee, hands folded across his stomach, although the stripy comment had made him raise his head a fraction and treat her to another elegant eye brow lift.

"You are a Trickster?", he raised one finger, Rowan thought for a moment,

"_The _Trickster?", he gave a small nod,

"And I'm in a place called Kooza?", another nod,

"Not a burning big top?", a shake of the head this time,

"And...oh will you please sit up so I don't have to talk to you through your legs?"

He lifted his head again, regarding her through said gap that the formation of his legs made then slowly sat up, focusing his full attention on her. Rowan felt the static in the air building again,

"And you can stop that as well, it doesn't impress me...or frighten me"

He held her gaze for a moment, then a small smile curled the corned of his mouth and the static ebbed away.

"Where...what is Kooza? Why am I here?", Rowan sighed, dropping her head into her hands in frustration as the Trickster continued to silently smile,

"This would be so much easier if you talked! Now where are you going?"

The Trickster had unfolded from the couch and was making his way to the middle of the floor. He gestured to the boy, who reeled in his kite and plonked him self down next to Rowan, treating her to a toothy grin before regarding the Trickster with eager anticipation. The man in the striped suite opened his arms, dropping into a wide legged stance before turning slowly on the spot, hands and fingers drawing intricate patterns in the air. The sharp smell of o-zone hit Rowan and the air crackled, her discarded radio humming as the Trickster curled in on himself the suddenly threw his arms wide. There was a roar of thunder and electricity as shapes materialized around them. An auditorium, stage and imposing bataclan, hung with rich red drapes and adorned with intricate iron and brass fretwork like lace. Light and color swirled around them as colorfully dressed figures emerged from inside the tower's ground floor, positioning themselves around the stage. Rowan sat with her mouth slightly open, the boy beside her clapping enthusiastically. Before her, obviously impressed with himself, the Trickster bowed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the delay in updating, I've been having some computer problems. Again thanks for the reviews and here is the third chapter. I hope you enjoy!**

**(I don't own anything!...Seriously...I don't)**

Rowan grinned as the Chivari performed for her. She was in awe of their abilities and they seemed friendly, smiling widely at her and inviting her to join them. She politely declined but the boy bounced out of his seat and rushed over to the soft laughter of the assembled acrobats. She laughed at his whoops of delight as the Chivari lifted, twirled and flung him about. Coming back towards her, he cartwheeled then bowed in an imitation of the Trickster. Rowan clapped as he sat back down, grinning with pride and content to watch for now. After a few moments she jumped slightly as the boy, never taking his eyes off the performance, took hold of her hand. Rowan smiled, content to let him. A flash of scarlet and gold caught her eye. Looking up she found the Trickster, now in a suit of scarlet and gold, looking down at her from the balcony. She caught his eye and he quickly looked away, draping himself on the railing with an air of complete disinterest.

Leaving the Chivari occupying the stage, Trickster stalked up the stairs to the balcony, his suit morphing from blue and orange to gold and scarlet, the pointed twist of his head piece separating and twisting in to multiple spines. He stood on the balcony, his gaze drawn to the woman who smiled widely at the antics of the boy. She clapped as he bowed and a small smile graced the Trickster's lips as he saw his influence in the boy's movement. That smile froze then disappeared however, when he saw the boy tentatively take the woman's hand. A sudden stab of anger twisted in his stomach, his hands tightening on the balcony railing. Then he noticed the woman looking up at him and he turned away from her sharply, the mask dropping back into place as he forced his body to relax. What worried him most was the fact that the boy had managed to: one, leave Kooza for a short period of his own accord and two, bring someone into Kooza, something that previously only the Trickster has the ability to do. Granted the little twerp had taken the wand but it was really only a prop, something to further the illusion, it had no real power. The woman's entry had been a mess and showed the boy's limited ability. He had stood in the shadows and watched as the boy had run to the strange creature, sprawled on the stage. Watched him jump back as a shrill noise had sliced through the silence and had continued to grow more insistent until the creature had moved, then sat up and removed it's face to reveal a far prettier one beneath. He had been taken aback when she had stood up to him, but the shock had turned to curiosity at her lack of fear of him. Normally one look from him could have even the toughest of his creations quaking in their boots. No one had ever stood up to him before. The Trickster sighed, his fingers absentmindedly twisting the air. He didn't know why the boy was so interested with this particular human, this mortal woman who...whilst even the Trickster couldn't deny that she was pretty, didn't seem to be anything special. Yes, she had retrieved that damn kite but why bring her here? He scowled, then winced as pain lanced between his eyes. The Trickster turned and slid into the shadows of the stair well, massaging the bridge of his nose as the pain ebbed. The spring equinox always gave him head aches but he couldn't remember them ever being this frequent and painful. He was also having trouble with the flow of his power, at times barely having enough to make a daisy bloom and at others, brimming with energy to the point he could barely control himself. Maybe that was the reason the boy had managed what he had done, the power that made and maintained Kooza was fluctuating wildly and could theoretically be harnessed by anyone with some ability...however limited that was. The sound of childish laughter made him stop his descent, his elegant hands balling into fists. He would let the boy have his fun then he would send the woman back.

Rowan rolled out of bed and stretched, almost purring at the satisfactory pull in her muscles. The boy had led her up here the previous night, before giving her a hug and bouncing away. The room was comfortably furnished with lashings of gold amongst the predominantly blue color scheme. She found a jug of hot water and a basin on the dresser, a fluffy towel and a small bar of soap beside them. Rowan frowned, she was sure she hadn't heard anyone come in. She washed and pulled on her uniform before turning back to the dresser to check her appearance in the mirror. In place of the washing implements she found a steaming cup of something that looked (an tasted) vaguely like tea, plate of toast with lashings of honey and a bowl of blood red strawberries. Her stomach suddenly remembering that she hadn't eaten since yesterday she dived in, savoring the sweet tang of the strawberries and the smooth honey. Yesterday. What a day yesterday had been...she supposed that now she would have to admit to herself that what was happening was real. It certainly seemed real. Everything she touched felt solid, the sights, the sounds...everything was too vibrant and colorful to be a figment of her imagination, plus she didn't think that her imagination was capable of conjuring such a place. The boy had dragged her around, introducing her to the people of Kooza, non of them spoke much apart from the clown king and his entourage. The sly one in the purple suit had tried to pick her pocket and as a reward she had almost broken his fingers. The clown king had told her the back story to Kooza, between trying to frighten her, make her laugh and flirt with her. Apparently they called the boy, the Innocent. Rowan had decided on the spot that this was ridiculous and once again had asked the boy for his name. Once again he had avoided the question. They hadn't seen the Trickster for the rest of the day and she had already dismissed him as an arrogant, egotistical fool who liked nothing better than frightening people and showing off. Rowan left her room and went to follow the route that the boy had shown her the day before to get to the stage. However she had barely moved two steps when she almost collided with said colorful fool in the stairwell,

"Whoops, sorry," regardless of what she thought of him Rowan had always been taught to mind her manners, so she stepped back out of his way. The Trickster didn't move, just watched her with those slightly glowing white eyes. Rowan stood for a moment then held out her hand. The colorless eyes flicked down for a moment then came back to her face,

"I think we got off on the wrong foot yesterday, I'd like to apologise for that...I'm Rowan"

for a moment he didn't move, then he took her hand and shook it once before side stepping and fading into the shadows at the edge of the stair well. Rowan stood, stunned. She suppressed a shudder and began to make her way down the stairs. At least that seemed to be an improvement on yesterday.

The Chivari were out on the stage again, the boy with them. They looked like they were putting together a new routine and Rowan stood on the side lines and watched. She clapped when they had finished and they bowed low to her. The boy approached and took her hand, leading her to center stage, where he gestured for her to perform.

"No way kiddo, I can't do anything like that," he shrugged and left her standing there while he went and sat with the Chivari who had positioned themselves around the Bataclan, watching her expectantly. Rowan felt panic building in her chest, now what was she going to do? For a moment she considered refusing to perform, then a spotlight found her and she was suddenly transported back five years to the last show she had danced in, the applause ringing in her ears. She had loved dancing, lived for it in fact, then...that had happened and she couldn't bring herself to take to the stage any more. Rowan looked up, the boy was watching her, eager and hopeful. She sighed, then looked to the band,

"Give me something with a beat," they nodded and began to play. Rowan closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her. It was a happy, lively tune with a distinctive beat and she began to move to it, shakily at first, then she found her rhythm and everything faded away. It was just her and the music that seemed to come alive to her movements, every flourish perfectly timed with a leap or spin. She slid into the splits, throwing her arms high and her head back, panting and grinning with sheer joy. She hadn't felt like this in a long time. The Chivari jumped to their feet, applauding enthusiastically, crowding around her to pat her on the back, whistling and whooping. The boy flung his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly before giving her a look that clearly said, 'see? I told you so'. Rowan stroked his cheek, unsure of what to say. Behind them, in the shadows of the tower, white eyes glowed.


	4. Chapter 4

The Innocent pulled his blanket up under his chin, curling into a comfortable ball on the small bed. The Trickster had created the small room for him when he had first arrived and it was cosy and warm. His kite took pride of place on the shelf on the wall but now sat next to a recent addition. Rowan's yellow helmet shone slightly in the dark. The kind lady had let him wear it and he had loved it so much she had given it to him. He smiled and hummed to himself. He had seen the sadness in her that day in the park but also the kindness of her heart and the strength of her spirit. He had been sad before he came to Kooza so; using the skills that the Trickster had taught him he had summoned her. Granted it wasn't exactly a smooth operation but now she seemed happy...so he was happy. He snuggled further into his pillows and blankets and sank into sleep.

The Trickster stalked the lower floors of the Bataclan. Around and above him the inhabitants of Kooza slept soundly. He curled his gold stained fingers in the shadows feeling the slight resistance of the darkness, like silk between his fingers. He paused suddenly as coldness prodded the edge of his consciousness. He concentrated, head tiling to one side causing the bells on his head dress to tinkle sweetly. Someone was having a nightmare. He heard movement above him and sunk back into the shadows as footsteps began coming down the stairs and Rowan appeared. She wore her flame retardant tunic over the blue vest and shorts that he had provided for her to sleep in. For a moment he considered jumping out and frightening her but the expression on her face made him pause. For the first time since she had arrived she looked vulnerable. He watched as she padded, barefoot, out onto the stage, completely oblivious to his presence. Silently he followed. Rowan stood in the middle of the stage, still as a statue in the bluish night time light, then she dropped her tunic to the floor and began to dance. Her movements were slow but strong and she glided across the stage. Soon quiet music began to drift to the Trickster as he watched, the tune slow and melancholic. Kooza only responded in this way to strong emotion and this music was the sound of heart break. He felt his own heart, usually so aloof and oppose to shows of emotion, lurch as Rowan completed a series of spins and turns before reaching out into the darkness as if trying to pull something to her as tears spilled down her cheeks. For a moment she didn't move and then her head dropped. In the silence, her breathing was loud and shaky as she fought back the emotion that pained her chest, then a quiet crackle sounded from her discarded tunic. Rowan sighed.

"Its not polite to spy on people," she turned to the Trickster as he stood a few feet behind her. He raised a questioning eyebrow and she nudged her tunic with her foot, exposing the crackling radio. She gave him a weak smile,

"Its my Trickster detection device...I don't like surprises"

To her amazement his expression softened and his lips curled in a small smile, the first sincere expression she had seen grace the colourful face. He approached her slowly but stopped when she folded her arms across her chest. For a moment they studied each other before Rowan pick up her tunic, draping the heavy material around her shoulder. The Trickster was still watching her, but his expression had changed. He looked...concerned? Rowan gave him a polite nod,

"Goodnight Trickster," she took a step to move past him but his hand came up, cupping her cheek. Rowan stopped dead with surprise as his thumb gently brushed the tear marks on her skin.

"Why do you cry?" he said quietly in a voice like velvet as he stepped closer to her, so close in fact that she could feel the heat of his body and had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. Rowan stepped back, severing the contact.

"Oh so you do have the ability to speak?"

"Why do you cry?" he asked again.

For a moment Rowan looked as though she was going to continue to avoid the question, then she sighed.

"Too many memories"

"Good or bad?"

She looked him in the eye then,

"Both"

He caught the tension in her voice and decided not to pursue this course of enquiry...for now. Instead he gestured to the stage,

"That was beautiful; you have a talent for movement"

Rowan snorted, lip curling. The Trickster moved around her before reaching out and spinning her to him, dipping her as she gasped.

"I mean it," he breathed, "you should do more"

Rowan pushed him away,

"No"

"Why?"

"I don't dance anymore"

"I just watched you dance, it was -"

"I _don't_ dance anymore..._that_ was a lapse. I don't have time now"

The Trickster folded his arms,

"Time?"

Rowan through her hands up in an exasperated gesture,

"Yes time, not all of us can live life prancing through alternative worlds and having a laugh"

Anger flared in the Trickster's eyes,

"I create life"

"No, you create impressions of life. The only real things in here are me and the kid...I save actual people, I save lives," Rowan countered, "speaking of which I need to go back, I have a job to do and my colleagues will be worried about me. I want to leave first thing in the morning, I'll say goodbye to the kid then"

Trickster sighed as Rowan stormed past him. This was not going the way he had intended. He went to stop her when pain, sharp and white hot lanced between his eyes, blinding him. He felt his energy drain from him as his legs began to buckle.

**Just a short one...I know where I want to go with this I'm just not sure how to get there! Any suggestions? Anyway I hope you enjoyed and thanks for the reviews. I'll update soon!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the reviews! Hope you enjoy the next chapter.**

**(All rights belong to Cirque)**

Rowan stormed up to the red curtain, rummaging in the folds of velvet for the gap that would lead her back to bed. She couldn't find it...that bloody man! This was his doing! Her temper at simmering point Rowan whipped around, a snarl forming in her throat, but the sight that met her eyes froze her temper. She had turned in time to see the Trickster drop to his knees, his face a mask of shock and pain, white eyes sightless as they rolled back. Rowan darted forward, catching him before he fell forward. She gripped his shoulders, keeping him upright as she hunkered down in front of him,

"Woah woah woah! What's wrong?...talk to me," she said, slipping into fire fighter mode as she took hold of his chin, trying to get him to focus on her,

"Come on buddy, come back to me...Trickster!," abandoning medical protocol she shook him sharply. His gaze sharpened and he looked at her, trembling under her hands. Rowan put her palm to his cheek, he was cool and clammy. The Trickster closed his eyes, leaning into the touch, groaning quietly. Rowan didn't understand, he had gone from a physical manifestation of pure energy to being as weak as a new born kitten in the blink of an eye.

"Tell me what's wrong so I can help you"

He opened his eyes, tried to speak then just shook his head. He seemed completely exhausted. Rowan looked around. Kooza seemed completely deserted, there was no one to help her but she was damned if she was going to stay kneeling on the stage for the rest of the night. If she could get him inside the tower, get him to a bed or something then she could try and examine him properly.

"Can you stand?"

For a moment he didn't move then he took a deep breath and nodded. Rowan hauled him to his feet, letting him lean on her for support. This was progress at least. Said progress was short lived however as after a few shaky steps the Trickster suddenly sagged, becoming a dead weight as he passed out. Rowan cursed as she caught him, his tall frame enveloping her. For a moment she was stumped as to what to do then she twisted allowing the Trickster's unconscious body to drape across her back. She bent forwards, hooking one arm around his arms, the other she hooked behind his knees. Grunting with the effort she stood straighter, carrying him in an old fashioned fireman's lift. The bells in his hat jingled inappropriately as she walked with slow measured steps, making sure her grip was firm and concentration on keeping her balance. As she approached the curtains they parted for her and the stairwell was more brightly lit than usual. When she reached the upper floor Rowan stopped. She had no idea if the Trickster had a room, he seemed intensely private and until about twenty minutes ago he had never spoken to her or even had much to do with her. Apart from the odd and nonsensical explanation she had gotten from the clowns she had very little knowledge about how Kooza and its inhabitants operated, other than the man currently draped across her shoulders was in charge. There were no other doors on this corridor apart from the one to her room and the Trickster was getting increasingly heavy. She had no choice. She kicked to door open and laid him as gently as she could on the bed, removing his jacket and tie and loosening the top buttons of his shirt before removing his hat exposing short deep brown hair. Rowan conducted a quick physical. Trickster's breathing had slowed but his pulse was still high but she had no idea what counted as normal, she wasn't sure if he was entirely human. He was still cold to the touch so she pulled the blanket over him before perching on the end of the bed. In the quiet she fought to stay awake, her head in her hands whilst behind her the Trickster slept quietly. Rowan sighed lying back, her feet on the floor, her head level with the Trickster's knees, sleep fuzzy and warm on the edge of her consciousness.

A timid knock at the door brought her awake. Sighing Rowan stood and opened the door. The Innocent stood outside surrounded by other Kooza residents. Rowan looked back at them bleary eyed as they tried to see around her,

"Yes he's here, but no one is to bother him ok? He's under my care until I deem him fit, understand?" she watched them all nod, the trapeze artist however glared hotly at her from behind the shoulder of the lead Chirivari.

"Good, he is asleep at the moment, I'll keep you updated," Rowan went to close the door when she caught sight of the expression on the Innocent's face, his eyes brimming with tears. She hesitated for a moment then took him gently by the shoulder and took him inside, the look she gave the others making it clear that no one was to follow them and shut the door. Rowan followed the boy across to the bed where he just stood and looked down at the prone figure. She watched as he reached out to touch the Trickster's hand but he stopped and wiped his eyes instead.

"Hey," she said quietly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, "he's ok, just sleeping at the moment"

The Innocent nodded, he reached out again and this time before he could pull back Rowan took his hand and placed it on the Trickster's. The Innocent gently traced his fingers along the gold staining on the older man's hand. Rowan shook her head, the Trickster did nothing but poke fun at and intimidate the boy yet here he was showing the most tender concern.

"Come on sweet heart, you can come and see him later"

Opening the door, they found the lead Chirivari still waiting outside. The Innocent gave Rowan a waist height hug before the Chirivari ushered him away, smiling at Rowan over his shoulder. She headed back to the bed and sat back down.

Trickster opened his eyes. Pale morning light was filtering into the room. A room that wasn't his...this was Rowan's room. On the bedside table he saw his hat, jacket and tie and his stomach twisted in a tight knot...what had happened? His last memories were a complete blur, a kaleidoscope of pain and concerned blue eyes. Movement by his legs caused him to lift his head slowly from the pillow. He smiled. Rowan was curled at the bottom of the bed, asleep. Her head was resting against his legs. For a moment he watched her sleep, then he frowned as he noticed the tension across her shoulders. She moved again, whimpering softly in her sleep and he could feel the coldness emanating from her. Rowan was dreaming and from the vibes he was getting it wasn't a good one. Trickster gently placed a hand on her head and her dream flashed into his mind. Images of smoke and flame, of broken, bloodied and burned bodies and of a bald, almost skeletal woman lying motionless in a grey bed, her eyes hollow and dead. He removed his hand as if burned and the images faded. He was appalled, all those terrible things, how could somebody's mind conjure up such images?

"Don't like what you see?"

Rowan was watching him carefully from the bottom of the bed, her expression carefully neutral.

"They are such awful dreams"

Rowan laughed bitterly,

"Dreams? I wish...they are memories Trickster, everything you," she paused for a moment, "saw...I lived through"

Trickster sat up straighter, running a hand through his hair. Rowan could see he didn't quite understand.

"Its my job, I cut people out of cars, drag them out of burning buildings, my crew and I rescue people...sometimes we're too late, or there's nothing we can do in the first place," Trickster turned to her,

"And you want to go back to that?"

"Yes"

He shook his head in disbelief,

"_Why_?"

"The good parts outweigh the bad"

"I don't see how"

"Gratitude Trickster," Rowan said, a smile coming to her eyes, "The gratitude in a mother's eyes when you reunite her with her child, of someone when you save their home, or when you removed them from their destroyed car...an awful lot of my work is very rewarding"

"The woman in the bed...that memory hurts you the most," it was a statement of fact not a question. For a moment Rowan looked shocked, then she stood and walked over to the window.

"My mother," she said quietly, "she died five years ago...cancer," a hand was laid gently on her shoulder,

"I'm sorry"

Rowan looked at him out of the corner of her eye,

"Wasn't your fault"

"Your father?"

"In Australia with his new family, he left before she died," she turned to him, "are you alright? You took a nasty turn last night"

"I'm fine"

"Do you not think you should rest? Have a bit of down time?"

"I'm fine thank you Rowan...I need to be up and about"

Rowan regarded him critically for a moment,

"Your call," she said simply and moved past him collecting her uniform. The Trickster watched her as she fished her boots out from under the bed,

"Stay"

Rowan looked up at him,

"Pardon?"

"I know you wanted to go but stay for a few more days, your colleagues won't even notice that you've gone," he added quickly as she opened her mouth to argue,

"Trust me, when you do go back it'll be like you never left. Stay a little while longer...it will be good for you"

Rowan sat back on her heels,

"As if I never left?," she watched him cross the room, replacing his tie and hat,

"Yes"

"Ok," she said, "I'll stay, on one condition"

Trickster raised an eye brow,

"Spend some time with the boy, don't frighten him, just interact with him. Deal?"

"Deal"


End file.
